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Sunday, April 28, 2013

To Her Left

Not how much but the way she does, unprecedented like it should, unchained and inflicting while it livens like only her's can, as she gives.

Then there is mine, doubt before any thing, for all that she Could for all that I am.

In exchange of words, my blood
Now empty veins carry only thoughts
And thoughts become things, not senses

Now I can only remember her face which cringes every time my fingers touch hers. Now I can only think about assuming the power she puts upon me when she is on her knees. Only dream about climbing the mountain within her. Only want to offer any thing. I can recognise but pray. I am part man part being nothing.
...
Some day I will hold you and fuck you till you give up your pretenses. She said it over the phone when she read this.
...
That black dress slit from the back, where I slide in from face first and then the whole body, entwine hers starting from the stomach I go around her upwards between her breasts reaching her forehead meanwhile arms strangling hers then crawling all the way down to her feet making her lose balance, all of it under that dress, intact only slit from the back.
...
Hmm?